best.baby.shower.ever!
pics to follow; in the mean time, onion soup to eat, a novel to write, interviews to set up, and a cold to stave off.
2017 Projects #2
8 years ago
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
domesticicity
SO K. has all the pictures on his laptop in the oh-so-vundebar picasa, and hence, there will be no picture today. it's in the other room. and it's not even turned on.
my mother and my german sister are supposedly meeting me at thacker mountain radio this evening, though they're waking up in bowling green, kentucky, and it took them 24 hours to get there (apparently it took a day to drive out of virginia? who knew?) so I am resigned to the possability of saving two seats that will never be filled, ergo making all others around me hate me.
last night, I came home from the gym and quickly made 2 garden beds, which I then seeded with turnips and mustard, before K. pulled up at six or so. We ate grilled cheeses for dinner and then began our operation blitzkrieg: dogs washed, drove to the building where we unloaded shelves and organized his tools (which consisted of about 800 screwdrivers thrown wildly across the building...and other things, of course). we drove home-- the whole block-- and folded/put away 4 loads of laundry, put sheets and duvet covers on 3 beds, vacuumed/mopped the floors of the entire house, and cleaned the kitchen.
K. sheepishly asked "so where's the vacuum cleaner these days?
and I giggled and said, "over there."
He said, "are you giggling because you think I don't know where it is? You move stuff aorund, you know."
I said, "Yes, I am giggling because you didn't know where it was. Are you being defensive about that?"
Pause. "Maybe."
It was really nice working with my hubby; lately, we've been more along the lines of "divide and conquer", which-- when he's doing filthy stuff at the building-- i am a-ok with.
Of course, we proceeded to read for a good hour before we turned off the lights. Shadow slept on the porch adjacent to our bedroom last night, since she's been pissing wherever she lies down, and Dido-- we thought-- was under the bed per usual. We slept the sleep of the righteous, woke late, and when I went to let the dogs out, I could not find Dido anywhere.
She was in the backyard, with filthy feet, looking very, very woebegone. Apparently one of us let her out last night, and she somehow never made it back inside.
Got to sharpen up, what with a baby coming and whatnot...
my mother and my german sister are supposedly meeting me at thacker mountain radio this evening, though they're waking up in bowling green, kentucky, and it took them 24 hours to get there (apparently it took a day to drive out of virginia? who knew?) so I am resigned to the possability of saving two seats that will never be filled, ergo making all others around me hate me.
last night, I came home from the gym and quickly made 2 garden beds, which I then seeded with turnips and mustard, before K. pulled up at six or so. We ate grilled cheeses for dinner and then began our operation blitzkrieg: dogs washed, drove to the building where we unloaded shelves and organized his tools (which consisted of about 800 screwdrivers thrown wildly across the building...and other things, of course). we drove home-- the whole block-- and folded/put away 4 loads of laundry, put sheets and duvet covers on 3 beds, vacuumed/mopped the floors of the entire house, and cleaned the kitchen.
K. sheepishly asked "so where's the vacuum cleaner these days?
and I giggled and said, "over there."
He said, "are you giggling because you think I don't know where it is? You move stuff aorund, you know."
I said, "Yes, I am giggling because you didn't know where it was. Are you being defensive about that?"
Pause. "Maybe."
It was really nice working with my hubby; lately, we've been more along the lines of "divide and conquer", which-- when he's doing filthy stuff at the building-- i am a-ok with.
Of course, we proceeded to read for a good hour before we turned off the lights. Shadow slept on the porch adjacent to our bedroom last night, since she's been pissing wherever she lies down, and Dido-- we thought-- was under the bed per usual. We slept the sleep of the righteous, woke late, and when I went to let the dogs out, I could not find Dido anywhere.
She was in the backyard, with filthy feet, looking very, very woebegone. Apparently one of us let her out last night, and she somehow never made it back inside.
Got to sharpen up, what with a baby coming and whatnot...
Monday, September 17, 2007
tread carefully: truly mushy ground ahead
Tomorrow is our two-year anniversary.
Because I love celebrations, I am *so* excited; because I'm an overthinker, I've been doing some heavy-duty relationship analysis lately, thinking about how we began, how we've changed, how things are.
Despite the accusations of PDA and whatnot out there, I try not to brag on my husband, mostly because-- well-- when one has the best, one tries not to boast overmuch, mais oui? But being that it's our anniversary, I'm pulling out all the stops:
I have the best.husband.ever.
Apart from being fantastically handsome, so much so that it's only his magic circle on the ring finger of his left hand that keeps women from hurling their underthings at him as he strides around looking all fine, K. is just really, really nice.
Exhibit One:
K. works a lot. At a job that demands a lot--- but he never complains about it, and so he makes it look easy. And when he comes home? Well, he spends another 15+ hours a week (including his entire Saturday) working on a historic building that no one else with less than a million dollars and a hole in their pocket would have touched with a ten-foot-pole.
Contrary to popular opinion, K. does not spend all this time laboring for the sheer love of labor itself (though he does like to work up a good sweat and tear things apart). But what keeps him doing this, day after day, and then coming home to a slightly pouty and infinitely demanding wife (who wants to TALK and take WALKS and do everything she can think of to keep the poor man from sitting on the sofa and watching a few hours of Scrubs) is this: he wants the best for our family.
Me, the pups, and now the little princess; K. keeps his mind on our futures more than I would have ever thought possible.
Exhibit Two:
Here's the real miracle: he doesn't whine, complain, or ever even insinuate that working so hard is a burden. Nope. When K. comes home from whatever job, he's happy to see me-- kisses me, hugs me, and says thank you for any water I might hand him. He praises my cooking without fail, allowes himself to be hauled out to the porch to see my morning glory flowers, and says with real awe, "the house looks beautiful, baby" after I've cleaned it.
Exhibit Three:
And then, sometimes, like yesterday (his ONE day off a week), K. spends his Sunday afternoon making me a bookcase I've been wanting, and then repairs a battered screen door I dragged home so we can have a breeze through our kitchen this fall. And that's right-- he doesn't complain. Instead, he holds my hand as we walk home, teases me about my growing belly, and scritches the dogs' heads as they hustle him for attention when we walk though the door.
And then:
Even when we fight (and we do), he listens to me. He's been known to say he's sorry. And nothing truly hurtful comes out of his mouth, not ever. There are so many lines that he never crosses, and that's why our world-- which occasionally fills with grumpiness, anxiety, and nothing-for-dinners-- stays so magical. Because he always puts us first.
Because he's the best husband ever.
Because I love celebrations, I am *so* excited; because I'm an overthinker, I've been doing some heavy-duty relationship analysis lately, thinking about how we began, how we've changed, how things are.
Despite the accusations of PDA and whatnot out there, I try not to brag on my husband, mostly because-- well-- when one has the best, one tries not to boast overmuch, mais oui? But being that it's our anniversary, I'm pulling out all the stops:
I have the best.husband.ever.
Apart from being fantastically handsome, so much so that it's only his magic circle on the ring finger of his left hand that keeps women from hurling their underthings at him as he strides around looking all fine, K. is just really, really nice.
Exhibit One:
K. works a lot. At a job that demands a lot--- but he never complains about it, and so he makes it look easy. And when he comes home? Well, he spends another 15+ hours a week (including his entire Saturday) working on a historic building that no one else with less than a million dollars and a hole in their pocket would have touched with a ten-foot-pole.
Contrary to popular opinion, K. does not spend all this time laboring for the sheer love of labor itself (though he does like to work up a good sweat and tear things apart). But what keeps him doing this, day after day, and then coming home to a slightly pouty and infinitely demanding wife (who wants to TALK and take WALKS and do everything she can think of to keep the poor man from sitting on the sofa and watching a few hours of Scrubs) is this: he wants the best for our family.
Me, the pups, and now the little princess; K. keeps his mind on our futures more than I would have ever thought possible.
Exhibit Two:
Here's the real miracle: he doesn't whine, complain, or ever even insinuate that working so hard is a burden. Nope. When K. comes home from whatever job, he's happy to see me-- kisses me, hugs me, and says thank you for any water I might hand him. He praises my cooking without fail, allowes himself to be hauled out to the porch to see my morning glory flowers, and says with real awe, "the house looks beautiful, baby" after I've cleaned it.
Exhibit Three:
And then, sometimes, like yesterday (his ONE day off a week), K. spends his Sunday afternoon making me a bookcase I've been wanting, and then repairs a battered screen door I dragged home so we can have a breeze through our kitchen this fall. And that's right-- he doesn't complain. Instead, he holds my hand as we walk home, teases me about my growing belly, and scritches the dogs' heads as they hustle him for attention when we walk though the door.
And then:
Even when we fight (and we do), he listens to me. He's been known to say he's sorry. And nothing truly hurtful comes out of his mouth, not ever. There are so many lines that he never crosses, and that's why our world-- which occasionally fills with grumpiness, anxiety, and nothing-for-dinners-- stays so magical. Because he always puts us first.
Because he's the best husband ever.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
why I love my writing gig
This morning, I went to interview a lady who I'd been told to call because she "has a house like nothing you've ever seen."
It is indeed, like nothing I've ever seen; she feeds catfish from her deck over the 5-acre "lake", there are cooing white turtle doves in a tall ironwork cage with a tin roof, and old windows hang from the edges of the porch like other people hang Boston ferns. I had a great time.
And when I left, I bore an invitation to a fish fry, jars of salsa, cinnamon spears, soup, and muscadine jelly, as well as an exhortation to measure my kitchen door to see if one of her three salvaged screen doors would fit.
People are so COOL down here.
It is indeed, like nothing I've ever seen; she feeds catfish from her deck over the 5-acre "lake", there are cooing white turtle doves in a tall ironwork cage with a tin roof, and old windows hang from the edges of the porch like other people hang Boston ferns. I had a great time.
And when I left, I bore an invitation to a fish fry, jars of salsa, cinnamon spears, soup, and muscadine jelly, as well as an exhortation to measure my kitchen door to see if one of her three salvaged screen doors would fit.
People are so COOL down here.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
25 weeks say WHAT
Last night, I was dancing around K. with my shirt held up (it happens a lot these days) and he said, "you know that belly you wanted? It's here."
And it is! Baby girl is doing some GROWING, as evidenced by my eating about three shredded wheat bowls of cereal a day, staggered between my regular meals.
According to my baby site, the little princess is about 13+ inches long and weighs apound and a half. She moves often; oo, in fact, just now; otherwise, betrays little sense of personality. Except she just kicked me again. There are 15 weeks to go, and I have the sense that things will be a'changing.
My lovely husband bought me my first pair of maternity pants, which ROCK; my back hurts a bit more, and it's harder to be comfortable sleeping; otherwise, I feel like myself. Just with a growing stomach that contains a live creature that occasionally moves.
Not weird at all.
Monday, September 10, 2007
September 2nd: Jon and Sarah Marry
We left BG at 4.15 am to fly to Charlotte, NC for the wedding of Jon and Sarah.
Jon and I have been friends since I was 14. We haven't kept up the adolescent fervor of our high-school friendship, but we remain dear to each other, and after getting to know Sarah, she's become a good friend as well. I'm so glad they've married, and I wish them nothing but the best.
Their programs requested no church shots, so these are from their early evening reception:
Entering as man and wife:
A classic Jon expression:
Some cake-cutting action:
K. and me being goofy:
Sarah, me, and the belly:
And to end on a high note, the lovely Mrs. W.:
It was a grand time. And then-- they went to Costa Rica.
Jon and I have been friends since I was 14. We haven't kept up the adolescent fervor of our high-school friendship, but we remain dear to each other, and after getting to know Sarah, she's become a good friend as well. I'm so glad they've married, and I wish them nothing but the best.
Their programs requested no church shots, so these are from their early evening reception:
Entering as man and wife:
A classic Jon expression:
Some cake-cutting action:
K. and me being goofy:
Sarah, me, and the belly:
And to end on a high note, the lovely Mrs. W.:
It was a grand time. And then-- they went to Costa Rica.
What we did not do this weekend
1. Wash/trim/reapply flea stuff to the dogs
2. Stay for the entire Ole Miss/Missouri football game
3. Go to church
4. work on my slipcover
5. Enjoy the stupid movie "Dune"
What we did do
-K. slept until eleven on Sunday, and then he called his seester
-We took the dogs for a long Sunday evening walk
-I read four books, two about babies and two novels
-K put his hand on my belly when the baby was kicking and felt her move
-all the laundry
All-in-all, we're a wee bit sad it's Monday.
2. Stay for the entire Ole Miss/Missouri football game
3. Go to church
4. work on my slipcover
5. Enjoy the stupid movie "Dune"
What we did do
-K. slept until eleven on Sunday, and then he called his seester
-We took the dogs for a long Sunday evening walk
-I read four books, two about babies and two novels
-K put his hand on my belly when the baby was kicking and felt her move
-all the laundry
All-in-all, we're a wee bit sad it's Monday.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
BG pics
After a month of record heat and lack of rain in Mississippi, northern PA with its cool temperatures and clean glazier lakes was love.ly.
We had two fantastic rows, numerous swims, and K. and his sister-in-law-- who bring out the kid in eachother-- finally got to go snorkeling:
Not to mention time to bond with my lil sis (thanks to our conversation, I finally tackled the stairmaster yesterday!)
The boys-- cousins and uncles of various degrees-- looked quite spiffy for the Saturday night dinner and dance.
And as always at vB gatherings, there was ample time to shoot cans with BB guns. K. kicked my cousins' arses.
It was the L.P.'s (little princess) first B.G. experience. She'll be shooting cans herself in no time.
We had two fantastic rows, numerous swims, and K. and his sister-in-law-- who bring out the kid in eachother-- finally got to go snorkeling:
Not to mention time to bond with my lil sis (thanks to our conversation, I finally tackled the stairmaster yesterday!)
The boys-- cousins and uncles of various degrees-- looked quite spiffy for the Saturday night dinner and dance.
And as always at vB gatherings, there was ample time to shoot cans with BB guns. K. kicked my cousins' arses.
It was the L.P.'s (little princess) first B.G. experience. She'll be shooting cans herself in no time.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
On the Great Cow debate-- and etc.
LISTEN HERE, fellow liberals: boycott industrial feedlot beef, who are trucked all over America, fed corn that has been trucked all over the same America, not to mention grown by massive use of oil-run machinery and over-use of fertilizers ALL YOU WANT-- but for heaven's sakes, eating the grass-fed cow some poor sustainable-agriculture devotee down the road raised does NOT NOT NOT contribute to global warming because that said poor cow happens to POO and PEE and ergo contribute METHANE GAS and AMMONIA.
If we're getting rid of animals because of their emissions, why don't we start with animals we don't eat? Horses weigh about the same as cows, and if they belong to pretty little girls with rich parents, they're getting hauled around the country to jump over sticks and wheel around arenas, ergo using MASSIVE AMOUNTS of fuel while POOING the whole time.
Save the Sustainably-Raised Cows. Boycott Pony Clubs.
P.S. this is a joke. I don't think animals' emissions are our major problem. Please.
If we're getting rid of animals because of their emissions, why don't we start with animals we don't eat? Horses weigh about the same as cows, and if they belong to pretty little girls with rich parents, they're getting hauled around the country to jump over sticks and wheel around arenas, ergo using MASSIVE AMOUNTS of fuel while POOING the whole time.
Save the Sustainably-Raised Cows. Boycott Pony Clubs.
P.S. this is a joke. I don't think animals' emissions are our major problem. Please.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
because It's Tuesday, and that means tomorrow's the weekend!
The world has righted itself.
It's funny how much K. being gone interrupts the rhythm of daily life; after all, he's at work 9-6 when he is home, so why should the lack of the car pulling up in the evening throw off my entire week? I don't know, but it does.
I've been busy spoiling him since he got home, which in our world, means me not yelling at him for forgetting to take out the trash and making blueberry pancakes for breakfast.
Tomorrow, we head to Blooming Grove for three full days of lake walks, swims, and hanging out with my super-cool sis, as well as forty--FORTY--other relatives. Then we board a plane at an absurd hour in the am and head to Charlotte for Jon and Sarah's wedding, boogie the night away, and return to Mississippi on Labor Day, hopefully rejuvenated, rested, and ready to get back into life here. K. doesn't travel in September, so no disruptions loom. (I'm having a baby shower though. September 29th. It's gonna be awesome.)
We had a spontaneous sunset picnic at Enid Lake, about 15 mins from our house, Sunday night with the chicken Danielle carted in from Nashvegas. It was beautiful, if buggy; being a mama in training, I'd brought bug dope.
And due to overwhelming request, a belly shot:
We'll take some pics this weekend. I was modeling the 2 dresses I'm packing (one for the dinner/dance in B.G., one for the wedding) for K., and he rightly observed that I look barely pregnant in one, and unmistakably so in the other.
Have a great week/weekend chickies.
It's funny how much K. being gone interrupts the rhythm of daily life; after all, he's at work 9-6 when he is home, so why should the lack of the car pulling up in the evening throw off my entire week? I don't know, but it does.
I've been busy spoiling him since he got home, which in our world, means me not yelling at him for forgetting to take out the trash and making blueberry pancakes for breakfast.
Tomorrow, we head to Blooming Grove for three full days of lake walks, swims, and hanging out with my super-cool sis, as well as forty--FORTY--other relatives. Then we board a plane at an absurd hour in the am and head to Charlotte for Jon and Sarah's wedding, boogie the night away, and return to Mississippi on Labor Day, hopefully rejuvenated, rested, and ready to get back into life here. K. doesn't travel in September, so no disruptions loom. (I'm having a baby shower though. September 29th. It's gonna be awesome.)
We had a spontaneous sunset picnic at Enid Lake, about 15 mins from our house, Sunday night with the chicken Danielle carted in from Nashvegas. It was beautiful, if buggy; being a mama in training, I'd brought bug dope.
And due to overwhelming request, a belly shot:
We'll take some pics this weekend. I was modeling the 2 dresses I'm packing (one for the dinner/dance in B.G., one for the wedding) for K., and he rightly observed that I look barely pregnant in one, and unmistakably so in the other.
Have a great week/weekend chickies.
Friday, August 24, 2007
It is still hot
But perhaps because my fingers are now blistered and not throbbing with pain (man, I am going to be such a WHINER during labor), the world seems pink and rosy.
I've got this character who is an architecural paint conservator-- these things develop, I promise; it's not like I sat down to write a novel with a guy who analyzes paint chips-- and he is teaching a seminar to a bunch of future architects, who care naught about paint, but are somewhat interested in old houses.
One of them asks him why old houses feel different, more harmonious, to her than new homes, and he can't come up with an answer. He thinks about low-ceiling Pennsylvania Dutch farmhouses, stately brick Federalist homes, funky Queen Anne cottages with their curliques and preciousness, and it's hard to find a common denominator-- other than age.
Is that it? The only reason old houses are cool is because they're...old? And if anyone loves new houses-- tell me why.
P.S. Shout out to DANIELLE, who is arriving tonight from Nashville with a cooler of grass-fed sirloin, all-natural pork chops, and antibiotic-free chicken, along with her lovely self, her less lovely dog (I will post a picture; she's so funny-looking), and some dvds of Weeds. Gonna be a grand time here in Mississippi.
I've got this character who is an architecural paint conservator-- these things develop, I promise; it's not like I sat down to write a novel with a guy who analyzes paint chips-- and he is teaching a seminar to a bunch of future architects, who care naught about paint, but are somewhat interested in old houses.
One of them asks him why old houses feel different, more harmonious, to her than new homes, and he can't come up with an answer. He thinks about low-ceiling Pennsylvania Dutch farmhouses, stately brick Federalist homes, funky Queen Anne cottages with their curliques and preciousness, and it's hard to find a common denominator-- other than age.
Is that it? The only reason old houses are cool is because they're...old? And if anyone loves new houses-- tell me why.
P.S. Shout out to DANIELLE, who is arriving tonight from Nashville with a cooler of grass-fed sirloin, all-natural pork chops, and antibiotic-free chicken, along with her lovely self, her less lovely dog (I will post a picture; she's so funny-looking), and some dvds of Weeds. Gonna be a grand time here in Mississippi.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
you know
it is hard enough to write a damn novel in the midst of exciting baby news and possible house news and husband on business trip in lovely city/fancy hotel while i swelter in mississippi with a shepherd who runs away and a stepdog with an eye infection without burning my m*-fricking right hand so that writing longhand, the way i do, goes like this: hand under ice, think of sentence, got it, go! PAIN almost done with sentence what was the sentence? ice now! relief...repeat.
since this is the 3rd time i've scalded my hand in 2 weeks...i need to work on ambidexterity.
since this is the 3rd time i've scalded my hand in 2 weeks...i need to work on ambidexterity.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Thursday, August 16, 2007
bebe and the boys
I did not post yesterday because I wanted to put up a new belly pic, since people, I have started to pop! But the camera's in the other room, and dealing with iphoto (WHY is there not a mac version of Picasa?) seems like a lot of work for a picture of my poochy abdomen. So the bebe's fine, I'm hungry a fair bit, and a neat thing happened-- we've been eating very little meat because I refuse to buy the grocery store stuff filled with antibiotics and growth hormones and the natural stuff is hard to come by in Mississippi,I was all worried that the bebe was getting enough protein. Meanwhile, I also found myself NATURALLY-- naturally, people!-- making eggs for breakfast a few times a week (something I usually don't do because of the pan clean-up) and drinking glasses of milk with my lunches (also out of character). And then I read that voila, eggs and milk have protein! Listen to your body, people-- as long as it's not saying chocolatechocolatechoclate, you might surprise yourself.
The other news is we found homes for the boys. They will not be living together full-time, but a lady in Tunica is taking one (she has lots of land, 2 kids, and a lab) and her parents are taking the other (they also live in the country and have another dog), and the boys will see each other 2-3 weekends a month and spend vacations together, so it's a lot better than going to unrelated homes. Nonetheless, I am very sad-- because I LOVE them, especially when I found out they're not getting any bigger (28 and 21 lbs respectively). So sad that last night I had a nightmare where the woman didn't really live in the country, but in a motel, and tried to kill Kagan when we took the dogs away from her. I woke up convinced we had to find another person, but in the cold light of day, I don't think this woman-- who I've had several lengthy conversations with and who offered to email me pictures-- is lying.
So the boys go to the vet tomorrow to get their tiny testes removed, and on Saturday, they will be picked up by the grandparents.
I'll miss them.
The other news is we found homes for the boys. They will not be living together full-time, but a lady in Tunica is taking one (she has lots of land, 2 kids, and a lab) and her parents are taking the other (they also live in the country and have another dog), and the boys will see each other 2-3 weekends a month and spend vacations together, so it's a lot better than going to unrelated homes. Nonetheless, I am very sad-- because I LOVE them, especially when I found out they're not getting any bigger (28 and 21 lbs respectively). So sad that last night I had a nightmare where the woman didn't really live in the country, but in a motel, and tried to kill Kagan when we took the dogs away from her. I woke up convinced we had to find another person, but in the cold light of day, I don't think this woman-- who I've had several lengthy conversations with and who offered to email me pictures-- is lying.
So the boys go to the vet tomorrow to get their tiny testes removed, and on Saturday, they will be picked up by the grandparents.
I'll miss them.
Monday, August 13, 2007
On the upside, these guys don't question my life choices:
The two little uns are Beau and Jack, two hound puppies that arrived in our yard, covered in fleas, ticks, and without collars. We're trying to find them homes, but in the meantime, it's a hectic house.
The downside of being ahead of the curve:
Some magical things have happened since I married, and more recently, became pregnant. The support from people in my life has been mostly overwhelming, but it's also been illuminating: it comes from (for the most part) those older than me, who have been down this road before.
As for my peers? I have more than one friend who stopped talking to me after the pregnancy email went out. They just literally never responded, and I hear through the grapevine that they take the baby in my belly as some sort of criticism on their own life.
"Think about where they are coming from," my mother counseled, and I said "Why? Why do I have to? It's like the lady at McDonald's telling me that she doesn't like my t-shirt; it has nothing to do with her." And so being married and expecting a baby has nothing to do with my friends, both close and not-so-close. I promise each and every one of them that in the moments where making a baby was a possability, I had none of them on my mind.
I'm pretty fond of Bridget Jones and her Smug Marrieds, but in my world, taking a traditional route has caused me to be a social pariah. Now that I'm not the Only.Married.One, having a husband has become a little more acceptable, but the having a baby? No one else is there yet. And somehow the fact that I am makes some of my oldest friends draw away.
I'm still me, just as I was when I fell in love with K., just as I will be after the baby is born. I might not be sleeping in and as obsessive about my kitchen floor, but I can guarantee I'll still like quirky British movies, suck at Scrabble, and be incapable of not consuming any chocolate in the house. So the fact that some of my peers take a choice that is wholely mine personally makes me very sad, and more than a bit resentful.
As for my peers? I have more than one friend who stopped talking to me after the pregnancy email went out. They just literally never responded, and I hear through the grapevine that they take the baby in my belly as some sort of criticism on their own life.
"Think about where they are coming from," my mother counseled, and I said "Why? Why do I have to? It's like the lady at McDonald's telling me that she doesn't like my t-shirt; it has nothing to do with her." And so being married and expecting a baby has nothing to do with my friends, both close and not-so-close. I promise each and every one of them that in the moments where making a baby was a possability, I had none of them on my mind.
I'm pretty fond of Bridget Jones and her Smug Marrieds, but in my world, taking a traditional route has caused me to be a social pariah. Now that I'm not the Only.Married.One, having a husband has become a little more acceptable, but the having a baby? No one else is there yet. And somehow the fact that I am makes some of my oldest friends draw away.
I'm still me, just as I was when I fell in love with K., just as I will be after the baby is born. I might not be sleeping in and as obsessive about my kitchen floor, but I can guarantee I'll still like quirky British movies, suck at Scrabble, and be incapable of not consuming any chocolate in the house. So the fact that some of my peers take a choice that is wholely mine personally makes me very sad, and more than a bit resentful.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Baby Wednesday
Today, I am 20 weeks pregnant: half-way through according to the experts.
Today, K. looked at my belly (visible between my unbuttoned pants, which keep closed by a hair elastic loop, and my tanktop) and said: "When are you going to look pregnant?"
Apparently, NEVER.
Today is also the first week my baby calendar does not compare the baby to a piece of produce, so I have no cool comparisons for you. But from toe to head, the bebe should be around 10 inches long-- though it's all doubled up, not stretched out on tippitoes) and weighs around 10.5 ounces.
We head to the doctor August 20th (12 days) for our ultrasound, the first one since the very beginning, and the biggie-- where they check for organ development, deformations, and-- gender.
Anyone want to take bets?
Today, K. looked at my belly (visible between my unbuttoned pants, which keep closed by a hair elastic loop, and my tanktop) and said: "When are you going to look pregnant?"
Apparently, NEVER.
Today is also the first week my baby calendar does not compare the baby to a piece of produce, so I have no cool comparisons for you. But from toe to head, the bebe should be around 10 inches long-- though it's all doubled up, not stretched out on tippitoes) and weighs around 10.5 ounces.
We head to the doctor August 20th (12 days) for our ultrasound, the first one since the very beginning, and the biggie-- where they check for organ development, deformations, and-- gender.
Anyone want to take bets?
falling off the wagon
After weeks of relative healthy-living bliss, yesterday got lost to chocolate with almonds, Harry Potter, and craving a house.anyhouse.rightnow.
After a late-night cleansing of lots of water, cleaning the floors, and rearranging the furniture...I'm back! And our rented home looks *beautiful*.
Happy Wednesday.
After a late-night cleansing of lots of water, cleaning the floors, and rearranging the furniture...I'm back! And our rented home looks *beautiful*.
Happy Wednesday.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Always fun
I went to a friend's house this morning with all my southern ladies as she was having a book signing (she's an academic author). And while I was there, a lady whom I know only by face grabbed my hand and introduced me to a rather ugly, bulgy-eyed man who's beyond middle-aged but not quite old. The man introduced himself and then promptly informed me that I had gotten facts wrong in one of my interview pieces about a 93-yr-old WW2 veteran. He then asked for my email so he could send me information that would set me straight.
What I wish I'd said: You're an ugly old man with terrible manners. You email me, and I'll email you tips on being a a better HUMAN BEING.
What I did say: Why, I'm sorry. He was a difficult interviewee, being very deaf and 93 YEARS OLD, but here's my email. Excuse me, I'm going to get some coffee.
And now I shall stew about it ALL DAY.
What I wish I'd said: You're an ugly old man with terrible manners. You email me, and I'll email you tips on being a a better HUMAN BEING.
What I did say: Why, I'm sorry. He was a difficult interviewee, being very deaf and 93 YEARS OLD, but here's my email. Excuse me, I'm going to get some coffee.
And now I shall stew about it ALL DAY.
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